


I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded

by Finduilas



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, M/M, Memory Loss, Minor Character Death, alpha pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 22:32:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finduilas/pseuds/Finduilas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Teen Wolf AU: When Stiles uses his head to foil the alpha pack one too many times, they strike at his heart by stealing the sheriff’s memories of his only son.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="http://finduilasclln.tumblr.com/post/56073028279/teen-wolf-au-when-stiles-uses-his-head-to-foil">Based on this Gif Set by butyoureyessaidyes on Tumblr.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Teen Wolf AU: When Stiles uses his head to foil the alpha pack one too many times, they strike at his heart by stealing the sheriff’s memories of his only son.](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/25046) by butyoureyessaidyes. 



> Originally posted as comment fic on Tumblr. Now cleaned up and beta'd (by Space!) and ready to be "officially" posted here. 
> 
> Title from "Someone like you" by Adele.

“I can’t go home,” Stiles says after explaining to Derek what happened, and Derek tries to ignore the tears forming in Stiles’ eyes.

 

“You can stay here,” Derek says, determined.

 

“What if I can never go home?” Stiles asks, and the pretense of being alright is visibly slipping away from him, “What if he never remembers and – ”

 

“Stiles!” Derek says, fingers curling around Stiles’ now-trembling arms. “We’re gonna fix this.”

 

“But if we can’t?” Stiles starts, “He’ll be all alone, and… so will I…”

 

Derek shakes his head and he doesn’t really notice his hands are gripping Stiles’ biceps tighter, but Stiles isn’t pulling away anyway.

 

“You won’t be alone, Stiles,” Derek mutters, and he has to force himself to let go of Stiles, flexing his fingers as he does.

 

Stiles nods, blinking away the tears as he tries to put on a brave face.

 

“So how do we do this?” Stiles asks, face determined even as the salty wetness still stains his cheeks.  

 

***

 

Hours of research have passed when Stiles finally falls asleep on the couch, face smushed against the keyboard of his laptop. Derek doesn’t wake him, just carefully slides the laptop from underneath him and continues where Stiles left off. He’s knee-deep in memory-erasing lore when Stiles starts stirring, face scrunching up in his sleep. There’s a soft whimper falling off his lips, and he’s balling up his fists, and just as Derek puts down the laptop to go shake Stiles’ shoulder, Stiles jerks awake with a startled noise. His eyes are wide, and Derek can hear the murmured “Dad” underneath the gasping for air.

 

“It was just a nightmare,” Derek tries, his hand reaching out but not quite daring to touch.

 

Stiles nods, rubbing his hand over his face, before the nod turns into a shake of the head.

 

“No, it’s not,” Stiles whispers as he pushes himself upright on the couch.

 

“We’re gonna get your father back,” Derek says, “Trust me.”

 

Stiles doesn’t answer, just stares out in front of him, and Derek tells himself not to take offence.

 

“You should get some decent sleep,” Derek says, pulling Stiles up by the arm and guiding him towards the bed that’s just a little bit further.

 

“We need to find a –” Stiles protests, but he lets himself be led by Derek anyway.

 

“I’ll keep looking,” Derek says, nudging Stiles to sit down on the edge of the bed.

 

As Derek turns away, Stiles grabs him by the wrist.

 

“You should sleep too,” Stiles says, his fingers tightening around Derek’s skin.

 

Derek is about to protest, but Stiles’ eyes are big and hopeful, and the thought of Stiles having to wake up from another nightmare in an empty bed makes Derek’s stomach twist. So he nods and Stiles slides over to the other side of the bed, making a place for Derek.

 

“I do, you know?” Stiles says, curled up on himself but facing Derek.

 

“What?” Derek asks, maybe a little bit too close to Stiles.

 

“Trust you,” Stiles says, and he puts his hand over Derek’s before closing his eyes.

 

***

 

He has a hand curled across Stiles’ shoulder as he wakes up. Stiles’ face is squished against the pillow, his mouth hanging slack as he breathes quietly and peacefully. His leg is bent, the knee pressed up against Derek’s leg.

 

Derek watches him sleep for a few seconds more, relieved they somehow made it through the night without any more nightmares. Stiles’ face is close, and it almost pains Derek to pull away when his phone starts buzzing. He carefully takes his hand off of Stiles’ shoulder, and slips out of the bed as he brings the phone to his ear.

 

“Yes?” he says, quietly.

 

“Did you find anything?” Scott asks immediately.

 

“No,” Derek sighs, “I was hoping you would have.”

 

“Nothing so far,” Scott says, not trying to hide his disappointment in any way. “I spoke to Deaton, he was going to look into it.”

 

“He managed with Isaac,” Derek says, “Sort of.”

 

“I don’t think that’s an option,” Scott says.

 

“Yeah…” Derek says, and is startled when suddenly there’s a voice behind him.

 

“Is there a cure?” Stiles asks, and Derek whips around to see him sitting up in the bed, looking up hopefully at Derek. His hair is tousled and his eyes still look a bit clouded with sleep.

 

“I’m sorry,” Derek says as he shakes his head slightly.

 

Stiles slumps back down into the pillow, slinging an arm over his eyes.

 

“Call me when you have something useful,” Derek tells Scott, and hangs up before Scott has the time to answer.

 

“I should’ve just kept researching through the night,” Stiles says, finally throwing the covers off him as he gets up.

 

“That wouldn’t have done you any good,” Derek tries to argue. “There is no immediate danger.”

 

“What if the longer he goes without remembering, the harder it gets to undo?” Stiles asks, frustrated. “What if his mind just slips further and further, and he’ll never ever remember who I am? He’ll never remember all the things we did? What if he never remembers loving me?”

 

“He’ll remember,” Derek says, “He’s your father.”

 

“But he’s not,” Stiles says sadly, “He doesn’t know he’s supposed to love me.”

 

Derek closes his eyes for a second.

 

“We’ll find a way,” he promises finally, “You’ll see. It’ll be impossible for him not to love you.”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles snorts woefully, “Because I’m so unbelievably lovable, right?”

 

Derek clenches his jaw, and chooses his words carefully.

 

“Your Dad doesn’t just love you because he’s supposed to, Stiles. He loves you because of you. And that love might be boxed in somewhere inside of him right now, but it’s still in there. And we’re gonna get it out again.”

 

Stiles blinks rapidly, nods as he presses his lips tightly together and avoids Derek’s gaze.

 

“We did it with Isaac,” Derek starts, but Stiles cuts him off immediately.

 

“Peter’s not coming anywhere near my Dad!” he says in a panic, his voice pitched high.

 

“Of course not,” Derek reassures him, a hand covering Stiles’ shoulder to calm him down. “But maybe, with Deaton…”

 

“We’re not doing that to him either,” Stiles says vehemently, “We’re not shoving him in an ice bath. If there’s even the slightest chance it’ll hurt him…”

 

“We won’t do anything that isn’t safe,” Derek says, squeezing his hand against the muscle of Stiles’ shoulder.

 

“If there’s any risk…” Stiles says, “If he’d be in danger… then I’d rather he never remember me at all.”

 

***

 

They stop for gas on the way to Deaton's, and Stiles disappears into the little shop to grab something to eat – Derek wasn't exactly expecting company at the loft – while Derek fills up the car. It's only when he's done that he notices the police cruiser parked by the shop, and hurries in after Stiles.   
  
"Are you a donut or a bagel kind of guy?" Stiles asks as Derek catches up with him, looking over the choices.  
  
"Stiles..." Derek tries.   
  
"I'm biased towards pancakes myself, to be honest," Stiles goes on, "But with what you had in your cupboard, that was out of the question, and I doubt Deaton wo-"  
  
Stiles starts as he turns around, coming face to face with the Sheriff, who has a bag of donuts in his hands.   
  
The sheriff stops when he sees Stiles, regards him carefully while Stiles freezes up.   
  
"You're the kid from yesterday," the sheriff says, and it isn't quite a question.   
  
Derek looks at Stiles, who's still frozen in place, staring at this man who doesn't recognize him.  
  
"Are you feeling better yet?" The sheriff asks, frowning slightly. There's concern in his voice, but it's polite and business-like, and nothing like how a man should talk to his son. "You were a bit... confused?"  
  
At Stiles' silence, Derek takes a step closer, puts a protective hand above Stiles' shoulder blades, at the nape of his neck.   
  
Stiles blinks and nods, clears his throat before letting out a small and fragile, "Yeah, 'm fine. I..."   
  
"We're okay," Derek says, plastering on a smile as he sees Stiles getting stuck in his words. He squeezes his fingers slightly, as support for Stiles.   
  
"Yeah," Stiles says, sneaking a glance at Derek before shooting a smile at the sheriff that just about breaks Derek's heart. "I was just... being silly."   
  
The sheriff looks at them curiously, like he's contemplating confronting them in their obvious lie. He’s still holding the bag of donuts in his hand, as a clear reminder that he doesn’t have a son who forbids him that kind of stuff.  
  
"Sometimes he doesn't know when to let go," Derek says, as cheerful as he can muster.    
  
"Well alright then," the sheriff says, a guarded smile across his face as his eyes go from Stiles to Derek. "You keep an eye on him, son," he adds with a nod to Derek as he passes them by.   
  
The words ring in Derek's ears, and he can feel Stiles wince beneath his fingers.   
  
"Stiles..." Derek starts, but Stiles' face is already going pale as he stares at the spot his father stood a few seconds before.   
  
"I think I'm gonna be sick," Stiles gets out, and he pushes past Derek as he rushes out of the shop.   
  
All thoughts of breakfast forgotten, Derek runs after him, finding him huddled against the sidewall of the shop, out of sight of the police cruiser. He’s breathing heavily, face buried in his hands. Derek knows there’s nothing he can say that will even remotely help, so he crouches down next to Stiles, and waits.

 

***

 

Two days go by and the sheriff still doesn’t remember. Stiles is staying over at Derek’s loft, and Derek pretends he hasn’t heard the argument between Stiles and Scott about why Stiles won’t stay over at Scott’s. He tries to refrain from giving Scott a smug victorious smile about it though. Mainly because there isn’t much to be victorious about, with Stiles growing more miserable as each day passes.

 

“Fucking Alpha pack,” Stiles grumbles as he snaps shut his book and throws it across the room.

 

It lands with a dull thud against the floor, after hitting the wall. It’s an old book and the spine cracks and some pages that were barely hanging on now fly loose and scatter out across the floor.

 

“Dammit Stiles,” Derek sighs as he picks up the book, trying to salvage what he can.

 

Stiles just shoots him a look, but doesn’t apologize.

 

“Look, I know you’re frustrated, but – ” Derek tries.

 

“I can’t go back to my life, Derek!” Stiles calls out, getting up from the couch and stomping his feet for good measure.

 

“I think I know a thing or two about how that feels,” Derek counters, dropping the book on the coffee table with a loud smack.  

 

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Stiles snaps, and Derek _knows_ that he’s frustrated and hurt, and he knows that Stiles doesn’t really mean anything by it, but it still feels like a low blow.

 

Derek just scowls, turns to make his retreat into the kitchen.

 

“That’s it?” Stiles asks, angry. “You’re just gonna go? No snazzy come-back?”

 

Derek knows when someone’s trying to pick a fight. Stiles would probably feel a lot better if he could just punch someone in the face, make someone pay. Derek knows all about anger management, but he just can’t bring it in him to indulge Stiles in this particular request.

 

“You know what, Dere – ?” Stiles starts, but Derek’s head snaps towards the door as the alarm goes blaring around the loft. The door slides open and the click-click of Deucalion’s white cane enters the room.

 

“My, my,” his voice is taunting, and Derek moves to stand between him and Stiles. “Sounds like someone’s not quite happy with you, Derek.”

 

Ennis strides in right beside Deucalion, and Derek spreads his fingers, claws shooting out.

 

“You! You did this!” Stiles calls out, and he tries to force himself closer to Deucalion – to do what? Derek has no idea – and Derek throws out an arm, pushing him back.

 

And then there’s a fistful of claws in the back of his neck and a knock to his head and he slumps over against Stiles as everything around him goes dark.

 

***

 

“Derek! _Derek!_ ”

 

The yelling is frantic as Derek pries his eyes open again and finds Stiles hovering over him.

 

“Wha – ?” Derek tries, squeezing his eyes shut before he tries to move up.

 

Stiles’ hand slips under his elbow, trying to steady him. “Derek?”

 

“What happened? Where…?” Derek starts, glancing around the room for a sign of the Alphas.

 

“Oh my God,” Stiles lets out, stumbling back as he looks at Derek with big eyes. “Oh my God, this can’t… no.”

 

His heartbeat is out of control, and his breath gets stuck in his throat.

 

“This can’t be happening…” Stiles whispers, shrinking to a huddle on the floor.

 

“Stiles, what are you – ?” Derek asks as he sits up, and Stiles’ eyes go wide at the mention of his name.

 

“You remember me?” Stiles says, and as his voice breaks, it dawns on Derek what Stiles must’ve imagined.

 

“You thought they took my memories of you?” Derek says, taken aback by Stiles’ reaction.

 

Stiles just nods, and before Derek knows it, Stiles is wrapping his arms around his neck, pulling him close. Derek’s hands find Stiles’ back.

 

“I remember you,” Derek hushes into Stiles’ hair, and then Stiles’ lips are pressed against his.

 

The kiss is frantic as Stiles gasps and nips into Derek’s mouth, and he nearly shoves himself right into Derek’s lap. And Derek kisses back, because he finds it impossible not to. Because he wants it, and he knows that Stiles _needs_ it.

 

“Stiles,” Derek hushes as he brings up his hand to cup Stiles’ neck, to hold him close as he asks, “What happened? Deucalion…?”

 

Stiles breathes heavily as he ducks his head, his forehead coming to rest against Derek’s chin.

 

“He left,” Stiles simply says, pushing into Derek a little bit more.

 

“He left?” Derek asks, incredulous, “Just like that?”

 

Stiles nods against Derek’s chin, presses his face into the crook of Derek’s neck and inhales.

 

“Stiles…” Derek says, twisting away just enough for Stiles to raise his head and look him in the eye.

 

“He said he could get to all of us, if he wanted to,” Stiles says, his face pale.

 

“He wanted to show his power,” Derek says, fingertips pressing against the skin of Stiles’ neck.

 

Stiles nods, ducking his head again.

 

“Come on,” Derek says, as he gets up off the floor, pulling Stiles up by his hand.

 

“What are we gonna do?” Stiles asks as they both stand, and Stiles shifts from foot to foot awkwardly.

 

“We’re gonna go to Deaton,” Derek says determined, “He’s had enough time to figure this out. It’s time to finally do something. Call Scott, tell him to bring Isaac.”

 

“Okay…” Stiles nods, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

 

Derek grabs his car keys and heads for the door as Stiles grips him by the arm. Derek turns to look at him, phone in his hand but no number dialed yet.

 

“What?” Derek asks, and as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip briefly, he can still taste Stiles.

 

“Nothing,” Stiles says as he shakes his head. “He hasn’t seen your power yet,” he adds with a small smile, even though Derek can tell that’s not what he was going to say.

 

The corners of Derek’s lips pull up as he reaches out and takes Stiles’ hand in his for a second and squeezes.

 

***

 

“There’s nothing conclusive…” Deaton starts, and Derek sighs before Deaton can even finish his sentence.

 

“Then give me something non-conclusive!” Derek says, annoyed, “Give me a guess, _anything_.”

 

Deaton opens his mouth for a second, then exhales sharply.

 

“You have something,” Stiles says, eying Deaton carefully.

 

“I’m not sure,” Deaton stresses.

 

“What is it?” Scott asks, and all eyes are on Deaton now.

 

“Kill the one who took the memories,” Deaton says, and the room is silent in a beat.

 

And Derek wants to kick himself for not coming up with this sooner.

 

“That’s it?” Isaac asks.

 

“ _That’s it_?” Stiles repeats, heatedly, “Did you miss the part where he had Derek unconscious in three seconds flat?”

 

“That won’t happen again, I was – ” Derek starts, but Deaton raises his voice, “I’m not entirely sure this will do the trick!”

 

“What happens if it doesn’t?” Scott asks.

 

“Deucalion will be dead, I don’t see the problem,” Derek deadpans.

 

“Except that if it doesn’t work, and if he’s dead, we might have lost the only person who can reverse it,” Stiles says.

 

Deaton just points his hand at Stiles, as if to indicate that was exactly his point.

 

Derek takes a step closer to Stiles, and says, “He’ll never tell us. Even if he lives, he’ll never give it up.”

 

“You don’t know that…” Stiles says, and there’s a desperate tone in his voice.

 

“Stiles…” Derek says, shakes his head sadly.

 

“I might never get my father back…” Stiles says, eyes big and wet as they look at Derek.

 

“We will,” Derek says, “Even if this doesn’t work, we won’t stop looking…”

 

“Except when he kills you!” Stiles calls out, “He could’ve killed you earlier, he’s stronger, Derek, and…”

 

“No, he isn’t,” Derek says, unwavering, “You were launching yourself at him, Stiles. I had to – ”

 

“I distracted you?” Stiles frowns, and Derek doesn’t need to turn towards Scott or Isaac to feel them taking in every word, but in this moment, he simply doesn’t care.

 

“You did,” Derek admits, “And that won’t happen again. ‘cause you’re not coming with.”

 

***

 

Derek gets as far as the parking lot of Deaton’s office before Stiles catches up with him.

 

“Derek Hale, you’re delusional if you think I’m letting you do this alone,” Stiles calls out.

 

“You’re not letting me do anything,” Derek says, his jaw clenched, “This isn’t your fight.”

 

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Stiles asks, incredulous. “It’s not your father they targeted!”

 

“It’s not him they were targeting, Stiles. It’s me,” Derek says, “All of this, it’s because of me. They want to isolate me, they’re trying to get to me. And so I’m gonna deal with it.”

 

“By isolating yourself?” Stiles says, biting back.

 

Derek just crosses his arms in front of his chest, and sighs.

 

“Not to mention the fact that I don’t even want you to kill Deucalion,” Stiles raises his voice, desperately.

 

“It’s our only way,” Derek tries.

 

“It’s a possibility, one that we’re not even sure of,” Stiles argues, “But once he’s dead, that’s it. It’s done. We can’t all come back like your dead uncle, alright?”

 

“Stiles…” Derek sighs, because he hates to see this look of desperation on Stiles’ face.

 

“You’re gonna do it anyway,” Stiles says, resigned.

 

“It’s not just me he could’ve killed earlier if he wanted to, Stiles,” Derek says softly, and he hopes he can make Stiles understand.

 

Stiles opens his mouth, and for a second it looks like he’s going to argue again, but then he just snaps his mouth shut and clenches his jaw. And Derek knows that Stiles isn’t happy about this, but it’s the only way Derek can see to prevent more people getting hurt. To prevent Stiles from getting hurt.

 

“Trust me,” Derek says, so softly that Derek thinks maybe Stiles didn’t hear him.

 

Until Stiles swallows hard, and his voice breaks as he whispers, “That’s a low blow, Derek.”

 

And Derek nods because he knows, he knows how much he’s asking from Stiles. And he knows exactly what he’s putting at risk if this doesn’t work out and Derek disappoints Stiles. So he takes a step closer to Stiles and pulls him closer by a hand on the back of his neck and he kisses Stiles, dragging his lips over Stiles’ one last time before pulling back and leaving.

 

***

 

Derek is definitely not surprised – and maybe even a bit grateful – when Scott, Isaac, Boyd, and even Peter show up for the final showdown.

 

“You didn’t think Stiles was gonna let you do this alone, right?” Scott raises an eyebrow at him.

 

“Not really, no,” Derek says, a tiny smile tugging at his lips.

 

“I’m not even going to ask what the hell is going on between you two,” Scott says, his voice a little bit strangled.

 

“That might depend on this, actually,” Derek says, thoughtfully, looking up at the building in front of them.

 

“Let’s get him his Dad back,” Scott says, and the rest follow.

 

***

 

The searing pain of the rip of claws through his skin fades as he sees Peter and Scott pin Kali to the floor. Peter has his hands wrapped tight around her neck as Scott sits on her legs, immobilizing her feet.

 

Ennis was the first to die. Surprisingly easy even, as it only took one firm slice from Derek’s claws across his neck for him to slump down in a lifeless mess on the floor. And their entrance was set and all hell broke loose.

 

Derek is vaguely aware of Boyd and Isaac struggling to overpower the twins, now conjoined into one, as he puts all his focus on Deucalion.

 

“Quite the bold move, Derek,” Deucalion says as he twists his white cane in his hands, the edges of his lips upturned.

 

“You didn’t exactly give me a choice,” Derek says, trying to get a read on him.

 

“You’re all still alive, aren’t you?” Deucalion says, cocking his head a little bit.

 

“You’re gonna give the sheriff his memories back,” Derek says.

 

“Am I?” Deucalion asks, and he’s definitely smirking now and Derek is just about ready to wipe that smug smirk off his face.

 

He swings out with his right hand and misses, as Deucalion ducks – and how a blind man even does that is beyond Derek’s field of comprehension – but Derek immediately follows up with a kick to Deucalion’s shin, and that definitely hits its target. Deucalion stumbles a little bit, and Derek takes advantage of it to rip his claws right into the side of Deucalion’s face. He growls and cries out, but manages to get a few punches in to Derek’s face as well. They struggle for a while, until Derek’s got Deucalion pinned underneath him, his hand raised high, ready to slash his throat.

 

“Tell us how to get those memories back!” Scott calls out, and Derek’s hand stills, raised high above Deucalion, ready to strike when needed.

 

Even though he’s got nowhere to go, Deucalion still laughs – a loud and hollow laugh that echoes through the room.

 

“We’ll kill her if you don’t tell us,” Scott calls out, and Peter’s still got his hands around Kali’s neck and looks like he can’t wait to actually go for it.

 

Somewhere in the corner of the room, Boyd and Isaac have reached some sort of impasse with the twins. They’re almost circling each other, staring at each other and ready to pounce.

 

“Do it and we won’t massacre your pack,” Derek says, his eyes fixed on Deucalion’s unreadable ones as he hears Kali whimper in the background.

 

“And what makes you think I care?” Deucalion asks, twitching underneath Derek’s grasp.

 

“Then he’ll simply kill _you_!” A voice calls out in the room and Derek isn’t even surprised that Stiles has followed them.

 

“Stiles!” Scott calls out, and Kali snarls but Peter just punches her head back against the concrete.

 

“Then why hasn’t he already?” Deucalion asks, but the question is directed at Derek, and not Stiles.

 

“Tell me how to get my Dad back,” Stiles says, determined and unwavering, but to Derek’s relief, he keeps a safe distance from Deucalion.

 

“Give me Derek for my pack,” Deucalion counters, and before Derek can even answer, Stiles says, “Not gonna happen.”

 

“No Derek…” Deucalion says, “No more Daddy Stilinski.”

 

Derek’s hand flies to Deucalion’s neck and squeezes tight, trying to put pressure, claws breaking the skin.

 

And then the twin monster roars and throws itself at Isaac, Boyd quickly throwing himself on its back. Kali starts struggling underneath Scott and Peter’s grasp, and Deucalion just laughs again, sharply.

 

“I trust you,” Stiles says, just loud enough for Derek to hear him, and even though Derek knows that Stiles will resent him forever if it doesn’t work, Derek raises his hand and brings it back down swiftly, slashing Deucalion’s throat in one swift motion, blood spraying vastly.

 

There’s a howl from Kali, as she thrashes underneath her captors, and Boyd and Isaac manage to throw the twin monster off of them. There’s a rush of power pulsing through his veins, and it’s almost repulsive to Derek. He can only hope it is all worth it. He gets up, leaving Deucalion’s lifeless body where it lays, and steps over to Kali. He presses a blood-covered hand over her face, and says with a low rumble, “It’s over. You either leave and never come back. Or we do to you and the twins what we did to Deucalion.”

 

It takes Kali and the twins – each now back in their own form – exactly five minutes to run, metaphorical tails between their legs.

 

***

 

 “Stiles!” Derek calls out as he rushes after him, towards the Jeep.

 

“I have to go check on my Dad,” Stiles calls out frantically, fumbling with the keys in his pocket.

 

“Let me drive,” Derek says, and he wipes the blood off his hands the best he can before he covers Stiles’ hands with them and gently takes the keys.

 

The ride is quiet, until Stiles mumbles, “He can’t see you like that, all covered in blood.”

 

“I’ll stay in the car,” Derek says as they turn onto Stiles’ street, “I’ll keep my distance.”

 

Stiles just nods, but Derek can hear his heartbeat spike as the house comes into view and the sheriff is stepping out of the police cruiser. The Jeep barely comes to a halt in front of the driveway and Stiles is already stumbling out, calling out “Dad!” as he runs up to him.

 

“You were still out?” the sheriff replies instantly, “Stiles, do you have any idea how late it is?”

 

Derek closes his eyes and lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding as he hears Stiles choke off a sob. He throws his arms around his father’s neck, pulling him close.

 

“Stiles?” the sheriff asks, confused and concerned, but Derek can see him tightening his arms around Stiles’ back anyway. “Are you okay?”

 

Stiles nods against his father’s neck, mumbling, “Yeah, Dad. Yeah.”

 

“Sometimes you scare me, son,” the sheriff huffs, patting Stiles on the back.

 

Stiles lets out a cut-off laugh before he says, “Same, Dad.”

 

The sheriff shakes his head slightly, and as Stiles untangles himself from the hug, he holds an arm around his father’s shoulder. Stiles smiles then, genuine and gratifying, and Derek slips out of the driver’s side of the Jeep carefully, without making a sound. He closes the door with a soft click, and starts walking down the street as Stiles guides his father inside the house.

 

Derek still hears Stiles’ heartbeat as he turns down the next street.

 

***

“Sleeping in?” Stiles asks, almost timidly, when Derek rolls over on the bed to face the door and watch Stiles walk in.

 

“I had kind of an eventful evening,” Derek says, and Stiles’ eyes fall to the scratches on his body, which haven’t quite healed yet.

 

“You left last night,” Stiles says, awkwardly.

 

“I waited until I saw…” Derek says, pushing himself up as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed. “Until I was sure he remembered.”

 

“It was like the last few days never happened,” Stiles says, “Like he didn’t remember not remembering me, it was…”

 

“That’s probably for the best,” Derek says, trying a reassuring smile.

 

“Yeah,” Stiles smiles back, “I must’ve looked like an idiot to him, though. Suddenly throwing myself on him like that.”

 

“A son doesn’t need a reason to hug his father every once in a while,” Derek says, and Stiles nods.

“Listen Derek, what you did…” Stiles trails off.

 

“I saw no other choice,” Derek starts, and Stiles finally takes a few steps towards him, cutting him off.

“No, no, no,” Stiles says, coming to stand before Derek, who’s still sitting on the edge of the bed. “I meant to say… I… Thank you.”

 

Derek nods, and spreads out his hands to come and rest on Stiles’ hips. “If it hadn’t worked…”

 

“It still wouldn’t have been your fault,” Stiles says, and his fingers are carding through Derek’s hair, and Derek likes it.

 

“You could’ve just given me up,” Derek says, thinking back to the deal Deucalion tried to make before he died. Before Derek killed him.

 

“That wasn’t an option,” Stiles shakes his head, and he bends down to place his lips on Derek’s. “And you knew it.”

 

Derek presses up for another kiss, before he says, “I trusted you” and pulls Stiles into his lap.

 

***

_The End_


End file.
